


Just to Make Him Sweet

by one_flying_ace



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual, Sexual Fantasy, but this went much darker than planned, so the warnings have been updated., they have a history of Lukas pushing and Philip yielding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9109717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_flying_ace/pseuds/one_flying_ace
Summary: Philip lets him, kisses back briefly, but he’s not into it, and that pisses Lukas off; he’d wanted it, in his bedroom the day before, wanted it and convinced himself it was safe to go further.Edit: Just a note to say that following some criticism I’ve made some adjustments to this, and re-tagged it. It was written and posted in about an hour, after a very long day; hopefully this version is improved. I wanted to explore the obvious struggle between what Lukas wants and the anger/frustration that comes with his self-denial, and it went rather darker than I intended.Perhaps it works better as an unfulfilled, and un-acted on fantasy; I may remove it altogether, if it doesn’t.





	

Lukas is drunk, three beers in and loose limbed with it, relaxed and mostly of the anxiety that hounds him. He’d grabbed the bottles and headed to the barn, wanting to be alone. Except he doesn’t, really; he wants Philip there, despite the many reasons he shouldn’t.

The third bottle, empty like the rest, settles into the straw as Lukas goes limp, alcohol and nervous exhaustion catching up with him. He dreams fitfully, of the cabin and the killer, the straw underneath him rustling as he shifts. Then he settles, dream changing, and he’s alone in the barn, waiting, except--

_ \-- except now Philip’s there, like he always is when Lukas can’t handle him. He walks in, mouth soft but chin up, prepared for a fight. _

_ “You’re drunk,” Philip says, worried and accusing all at once. Lukas sets the last empty bottle aside and pushes himself upright off the straw, opens his arms out wide.  _

_ “And you’re fucking hot,” he says, stumbling forward until he crashes into Philip. He keeps moving, straw catching on his shoes, using the momentum to shove Philip into a corner and against the barn wall. “Like so hot, come on, let me-” _

_ Philip lets him, kisses back briefly, but he’s not into it, and that pisses Lukas off; he’d wanted it, in his bedroom the day before, wanted it and convinced himself it was safe to go further. The hand pushing back against his chest feel ten times worse now, now he’s had time to think about what he wanted, about how far they might’ve got; now he’s got the memory of shoving Philip’s legs apart and jerking him down the bed so their hips fitted together. _

_ Lukas wants those legs around his waist again, wants to know how much courage he’ll need to find to get them there.  _

_ Three beers is enough of a start; Lukas plants his feet and presses Philip back harder, until he stops pushing and just looks back, eyes wide, mouth mulish.  _

_ “Come on,” Lukas says, leaning in, snatching another kiss, “come on, you want it, I know you do-” _

_ ‘You want me to want it,” Philip sneers, but he kisses back when Lukas presses their mouths together, lets him slip his tongue inside before biting down hard on Lukas’ lower lip. It sends a shiver down Lukas’ spine, makes him shove a knee between Philip’s legs and press up, up, until Philip groans. “Don’t, you’re drunk.” _

_ “Not that drunk,” Lukas says, kissing along Philip’s jaw. He is, really; he feels like his blood is fizzing in his veins, like it’s easy to forget about everything else and let himself want the feel of Philip’s body against his.  _

_ When he slides a hand down Philip is mostly hard, hips jerking back, away from his fingers. There’s nowhere to go, though; Lukas grins, pushing his hand against the swell of Philip’s dick, feeling the heat through his jeans. They’re both breathing heavily, Philip unevenly, his free hand alternating between flat against Luka’s chest, pushing, or clenched in his shirt. _

_ He wants, and he’s drunk enough that the lust overrides everything else, so he goes with it. Philip moves his other hand to try stop Lukas groping him, so Lukas reaches down, grabs his wrist and presses it away, back hard against the rough barn wall. He wonders if he’ll leave bruises. Hopes he will, wants to see them on Philip’s pale skin; forgets he’s left one already. _

_ “Lukas, stop, fuck-” _

_ “Yeah, yeah, I will, I’ll fuck you, you want that?” Lukas ignores the hand on his chest, pushing at him, braces himself against it and bites at Philip’s jaw, ignores everything else but getting Philip’s jeans open and a hand inside his boxers. He wants to carry on with what he’d tried to start in his bedroom, and this time- _

_ “No, no, I don’t, I told you-” _

_ This time Lukas doesn’t want to hear it. Philip’s voice is shaky, cracking in places, and Lukas focuses on that, on the sound rather than the words.  _

_ He shoves Philip’s jeans down awkwardly; he can’t move back because he knows, in the back of his mind, there’s a good chance Philip will run, but he can manage enough so there’s room to slid his hand down and close his fingers around Philip’s dick.  _

_ It’s hot and still only mostly hard, but stiffens when he starts working it. The angle is weird, and Philip keeps trying to twist his hips away, breathing gone shocky and rough; his feet shift, his legs spreading a little further apart, and Lukas makes a pleased noise. _

_ “That’s it, come on, you want me here, between your legs like this, you do, I can tell.” He murmurs it all into Philip’s mouth, punctuates it all with sucking kisses. Philip holds back, lips barely moving, making Lukas kiss him again, harder, chasing the familiar thrill. _

_ He’s got Philip crowded as far back against the wall as he can; still pressing Philip’s wrist against the rough planks, one leg shoved between his, nudging up to spread them out slightly. Lukas moves his other hand, slick now, twisting it on the upstroke to see how Philip’s throat works when he swallows down a moan. His head is tipped back, looking over Lukas’ shoulder, but his hips are moving, hitching upwards.  _

_ “I don’t, fuck, why are you still-  _ **_Fuck_ ** _.” _

_ “You do, don’t lie.” The world has narrowed down to Philip underneath him, still staring off and away, jaw tense and set. Lukas tightens his grip and moves his hand faster, thumbing over the head. Philip’s breathing goes deep and strained, like he’s trying to hold back. Lukas kisses the corner of his mouth messily. “You do, you want this, do it, let me see, let me make you come.” _

_ Philip comes with a low groan, turning his head away to muffle the sound against his shoulder. Lukas works him through it until Philip begins to shiver and try to twist away; then he lets go of Philip’s wrist to close around his hip instead, keep him in place. _

_ Lukas wipes his hand off on the wall, then brings it to his mouth and licks the rest off, alcohol and lust making him wonder what it tastes like. He wants to know more, wants to get Philip underneath him on a bed for real, desperately wants to know what it’d be like to fuck him. _

_ Philip watches him darkly, eyebrows drawn in, and then his hands fumble between them, doing his jeans up again. He turns his head away when Lukas leans in. “You’re an asshole,” he says, real venom in it. _

_ Lukas just laughs, catching Philip’s cheek and forcing his face round for another kiss. “You loved it, shut up.” He’s unprepared when Philip shoves hard, with both hands, and he goes stumbling backwards. Philip slips past him and heads towards the barn doors; not saying a word, not looking back, leaving Lukas alone with a hard on worse than any he’s had before. _

_ He sags back against the wall and laughs again, pressing the heel of his hand against the front of his jeans and groaning.  _

Later, Lukas wakes up feeling sick with shame, and it isn’t from the hangover. He wants, sure; but not like that. Fumbling for his phone he taps out a  _sorry_ to Philip, stumbling upright once it's sent and leaving the barn; he can't stand being there any longer. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently my thing is to paddle in the shallow end of a fandom, write something utterly ridiculous, and then run away again. So here, have this! I've played fast and loose with the timeline; this theoretically slots in after the _not your little bitch_ scene.
> 
> Unbetaed, any and all mistakes my own. Further notes at the beginning.


End file.
